Originally, this post started out with me writing about friendships, and how most of them fail due to actions of both parties, although most people like to blame it on the other person. I’m a firm believer in accepting the fact that I am human, far from perfect, constantly making mistakes. I am awesome and weird. I like to think I’m unique, or at least as unique as one can be nowadays. I am one of a kind.
This is going to be a negative, self loathing, complaint filled post, so if you’re not down with that, I suggest you wait for my next post 🙂
Yesterday’s Arts Walk was intense, to say the least. I knew it was going to be a lot of work, but I had no idea of the events that would unfold. The last few have been rained out, and I was hoping that wouldn’t happen again, because I had been planning this for so long. Well, instead it was 95 degrees and clear, with the sun beating down on us, and no shade whatsoever in the Artist’s Lot.
I don’t do well on my own. It’s taken a long time for me to admit this to myself. For some reason, there’s a certain stigma attached to the idea that someone can’t be alone. I don’t care anymore. I can’t be honest with myself or anyone else if I don’t admit that.
A few weeks ago I began the journey to a healthier me. As a kid and a teenager, I always felt self conscious about the fact that I was bigger than a lot of other kids my age. I wasn’t necessarily fat, I was just bigger and taller. As I got older, I was pretty happy with my size, even though I was still bigger than my best friend, who was 6 inches shorter than me and a size 4/5. She was very athletic, always into sports and running, and I was not.
Physical education was the class I dreaded most in junior high, because of my asthma. After a few small asthma attacks, I ended up getting a doctor’s note to excuse me from running the mile, but I still hated having to play any sports in class, because I am so uncoordinated. Eventually, I was excused from P.E. altogether, and would sit in the library doing reports for my teacher.
I’m going to start my period on Monday. If you’re uncomfortable with this knowledge, I suggest you leave now.
Do you want to know how I know? For one, I recently went back on birth control, as a way to regulate my extremely random cycles. The other way that I know, is because in a failed attempt to take apart our Brita pitcher for cleaning this morning, I began to cry and also rage, wanting to throw it through a window and be done with it.
Last night my husband mentioned to me that we received the new Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. A few years ago, this would have bothered me. I would have been upset that he announced it to me, as well as that he felt the need to even look at it. Most of you probably realize, as a subscriber to Sports Illustrated, the Swimsuit Edition is automatically included. We don’t pay extra for it. We don’t go out of our way to make sure we receive it. And if I just happened to throw it away, he wouldn’t miss it.
Last weekend I hitched a ride with my brother to Arizona. His family lives out there, but temporarily, he works out here. So every Friday he makes the trek back home. From my house in Riverside, it only took about 5 hours, including 3 stops. It wasn’t a bad drive at all! However I can’t imagine doing it every weekend.
Somewhere along the way, over the past few months, I’ve been swallowed up by the business of my art. I have been so focused on posting on social media, updating my shops daily, and trying to get the perfect photos of my work, that my art has actually begun to suffer.
I mention on my About page that my husband and I are living child free, not by choice. This is something that he and I have been going through together for 4 years now. This month marks the 4th year since we began trying to start a family. Almost immediately we both began to worry that something was wrong. I felt so defeated every time my period would arrive. I had been so hopeful that I was going to be pregnant, because my period was always late. Turns out, I was having anovulatory cycles. This, as well as many other issues, all add together to mean we can’t have kids.